


sunrise, sunset, and sunshine

by lostnfound14



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Lovers to Friends to Lovers (?), They found a place for Leo and Calypso's Auto Repair and Mechanical Monsters, because it's what they deserve, caleo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostnfound14/pseuds/lostnfound14
Summary: Leo found himself scared to touch Calypso. Honestly, he found himself scared to do anything even remotely affectionate with her, because what if she had gotten over him in the time between his departure from and return to Ogygia? He knew that she had been happy to get off of that island, but since that day, Leo had made a point of never asking her if she still had the same feelings for him that she used to. In ambiguity, he found solace. Calypso could not confirm his hopes, but she also could not deny them.-Or:In sunny and beautiful California, Leo and Calypso have found a place for the shop they once talked about all that time ago, but Leo can't get out of his own head because he's too busy wondering if Calypso still has feelings for him. One day, tensions between them come to a head, and she forces him to confront his emotions.
Relationships: Calypso/Leo Valdez
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56





	sunrise, sunset, and sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> So it has been YEARS since I read the Heroes of Olympus series by Rick Riordan. I absolutely adored those books, and would spend hours reading them in my room.
> 
> However, I was never wowed by many of the canon relationships. Sure, I loved the way that Rick Riordan wrote them, and their unique chemistries were all really good, but none fascinated me in the way that Leo and Calypso did. 
> 
> I've gone back and read the section of House of Hades that is dedicated to them multiple times because I loved every second of it. I guess that means I'm a sucker for an enemies-to-lovers trope. Seriously, I adored the way that section was handled. 
> 
> I wrote a fanfiction back on FanFiction.Net about them three years ago, but it was a multi-chapter fic that I lost steam with after four chapters. Reading it back for the first time in years, though, I was motivated to do something that could bring closure to the feelings that I have about Leo and Calypso. 
> 
> So, this fic is my love letter to them. Read on, and leave kudos and a comment if you enjoy it.

Leo probably would have loved California no matter what, but what made it beyond amazing was Calypso’s company. At least, that was how _he_ felt. He wasn’t so sure of her feelings about living with him, but she seemed to approach it in the same way she did everything else: with open distaste but a more subtle, begrudged enjoyment. He showed her something new every day, whether it was a song, a snack he liked, a movie, or an article of clothing he thought she’d look good in. She liked some, but not all, of the things that he shared with her. If anything, she did not find much pleasure in the material things, but instead in things like watching the sun rise on the beach.

To do so she would wake up early, leaving Leo to his own devices aside from making him breakfast every morning. It was usually something healthy, something completely outside of the realm of possibilities he had become used to during his many years in foster homes and on the run. He always ate every last bite.

It was because of her absence that his mornings were quiet, and therefore painful. Distraction was oxygen to him, and the two sources of it were Calypso and the odd jobs he happily picked up at work. He always opened up shop soon after he awoke, and it was around then that she would return, with light in her eyes to offset the muted expression she often wore. Leo would secretly breathe a sigh of relief when she came through the door, and he would return to work. 

He found himself scared to touch her. Honestly, he found himself scared to do anything even remotely affectionate with her, because what if she had gotten over him in the time between his departure from and return to Ogygia? He knew that she had been happy to get off of that island, but since that day, Leo had made a point of never asking her if she still had the same feelings for him that she used to. In ambiguity, he found solace. Calypso could not confirm his hopes, but she also could not deny them. 

There was a trade-off, though: Leo was in a constant funk for the first few weeks of their time working and living at the shop. He got the odd job, usually some idiot who didn’t know how to change his oil, which could distract him. When he wasn’t distracted he found himself constantly watching Calypso across the garage, where she worked at handicrafts, sang quietly to herself in ancient Greek, and made notes in a notebook. 

He would cross the shop frequently to bother her, asking her questions such as “What’re you making?” (lots and lots of bracelets) or “What do you put in that notebook?” (none of your business, Leo Valdez). He speculated as to what the contents of the notebook could be. Maybe she wrote down the names of people she wanted to die, like in _Death Note._ Or maybe they were things that she had heard of in the modern world and had yet to check out, like Steve Rogers did in _The Winter Soldier._ He had lobbied both of these ideas to her, and she had frowned at the first but decidedly not reacted to the second. He took that one to be the correct answer.

What he couldn’t get enough of were her eyes. They sparkled whether she was happy, angry, or upset. He could write a million songs, scrap all of them, and write a million more about those ridiculously enchanting eyes of hers. (He had written a few in the privacy of his room, but he kept them stashed deep within Jarvis, his bedside table.)

He did these things instead of holding her hand, or kissing her on the cheek, or laying his head in her lap when they were on break and resting on the ratty couch in the corner of the garage that he had lovingly named Tennyson.

“Why do you feel the need to name every piece of furniture we own?” Calypso asked him once.

His heart had soared at her use of “we,” but he ignored it in favor of grinning and quipping, “I forge a tight bond with plenty of inanimate objects. For example, Buford the table. He would have loved you.” _Not in the way I do, though,_ he didn’t add.

She rolled her eyes and muttered something about “insufferable mortals” under her breath, but she was smiling. Every single day he was reminded of how beautiful she was, with her caramel hair which was seemingly growing blonder with the aid of the unrelenting California sun, and her slightly pouty, expressive lips that he oh-so-badly wanted to kiss again.

He often wondered what her intentions behind those kisses were. His insecure mind told him it was the heightened emotions of the first time around, and the gratitude she must have felt toward him for the second. His more hopeful mind told him it was because she loved him, that her curse was no joke and she _had_ ended up falling for him and his supposedly insufferable self. 

He never asked her. And he was content with never doing it for the rest of his life, as long as he could spend another day with Calypso, because he knew he’d be content with her by his side. 

Leo never shared his feelings with her, something he was used to avoiding with plenty of other people. However, when Calypso looked at him for a second too long or asked him a pointed question that was coupled with a testy glare, he found himself holding back with everything he had in order to not spill his heart out for her to do whatever she wanted to it. He didn’t want to remind her of the promise on which he had returned to Ogygia to free her, because he knew that that conversation would undoubtedly lead to such mushy and gooey things as _love_. 

Calypso noticed his brooding self eventually, though, and she called him out for it one day with a hand on her hip and that fire in her eyes that he admired so much. 

“You are acting… _weird._ Why are you acting weird?” (“Weird” was obviously a new word in her vocabulary.) Her question made him look up frantically from the incomplete creation he had been toying with in the silence, fidgeting and pulling at random switches and coils of metal. He took note of her outfit: A grease-stained blue t-shirt and jeans rolled halfway up her calves. She looked so natural in the clothes, like she’d been wearing them all her life, but Leo knew that he was the one who had sparked her interest in such “practical” clothing.

“Whaddya mean, Sunshine?” He asked, slamming the trinket down on the hood of the car he was _supposed_ to be working on at the moment. “Aww, are you _worried_ about me? I’m flattered, really, I am.” 

She rolled her eyes, something she evidently loved doing, but then she dropped the affectionate gesture for a very serious, very threatening march around the car and toward him. She stomped in her sandals across the hard concrete of the ground, making a clip-clop sound that reminded him of Chiron's hooves.

As much as he wanted to laugh at her, he couldn't, because all of a sudden her face was inches away from his, and she was jabbing a finger into his chest as she said her next words. “I have _no_ patience for your jokes tonight, Leo Valdez. There is _clearly_ something wrong, and I have wondered _all_ day as to what it is, but you will not _tell_ me!” Each poke of her carefully-manicured nail into his core sent electricity pulsing through his nervous system, and coupled with the way her eyes angrily searched his for an answer to her question, Leo felt like he was going to melt.

He tried for a nervous laugh, but it came out as more of a croak, which he tried to disguise as a cough. The unimpressed way in which she raised her brow at him was evidence enough that he had failed at doing so. “So…” he mumbled. 

“So,” he tried again, his voice gaining confidence as he spoke. “You _were_ worried about me!” 

She sighed as if she were his disgruntled mother and he was an insolent toddler. Then she grabbed his hand in an achingly tight grip. For someone with such dainty hands and a lithe body, she was dang _strong._ “You are coming with me,” she grumbled as she started to pull him toward the door of the shop.

“Hey! Don’t damage the goods! The ladies love _all_ of Leo, not just this pretty face!” He tried to argue, but she did not even do so much as offer a look back in his direction as she continued to drag him outside. 

They finally crossed the threshold between the controlled coolness of the auto shop and the heat of the Californian sunset. He immediately began to regret wearing a long-sleeve henley and work pants that day, as he began to sweat slightly. At least it was near closing time, Leo thought. Otherwise, he would have had to lock up, and at the pace Calypso was pulling him along, he didn’t get the opportunity to. At this point, he decided to just match her stride, because being dragged down the block was definitely going to be hell on his Vans. He was already getting a few curious looks from bystanders, either laughing at him or moving out of Calypso’s warpath, watching in awe. _Bulldozer of hotness, coming through,_ he wanted to joke.

“Where’re we going, Sunshine?” He asked. “I hope you’re not taking me somewhere quiet to murder me. What would you tell the others?”

“ _Shut up, Leo,_ ” she said, with venom in her voice. 

That made his throat constrict with the tiniest bit of shame. For one of the few times in his young life, he was completely silent. The only sounds left now were the chatter of people headed for the boardwalk and the humming of car engines as they moved up and down the street. 

For the following minutes, he simply walked behind Calypso as she took them… wherever she was taking them. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that her grip on his hand had loosened, more reminiscent of a lover’s gentle touch than that of a vise. He didn’t dare let go. Instead, he relished it, because it was the closest they had come to a display of affection since Ogygia (because he’d been too chicken to make a move).

Eventually, they reached the boardwalk, which was bustling with activity: souvenir shops and carnival games lined the beach, crowded with plenty of dads wearing tacky Hawaiian shirts that Leo probably could have assembled into a gradient. But what the people were really there for were the roller coasters and Ferris wheel. The noise of the little carts racing along the tracks of the coasters sounded like angry wind. 

Calypso didn’t seem set on going on a romantic ride on the Ferris wheel with him, though. Instead, she steered them away from the crowd, moving down the beach toward a more quiet spot, where the kaleidoscopic sunset was visible and the sand unoccupied. When they were far enough from the din of the boardwalk, Calypso abruptly stopped walking, causing Leo to nearly bowl her over. She caught him by his biceps, though, finally letting go of his hand. 

“Whoa, Sunshine. Getting physical, I see.”

She looked like she wanted to kill him then and there, fuming slightly, her chest heaving adorably with the extent of her anger and cheeks slightly red for the same reason. Maybe he had been right. But even though she was glaring murder into his very soul, she said nothing, only sighing in disappointment and softening her gaze. With her features finally relaxed, Leo took the image of her in: meticulously-styled braid resting on her shoulder as if artfully placed there, strikingly beautiful ocean-green eyes, little button nose, and lips pulled into a thin, anxious line. She said nothing as he stared dumbly at her, and once he realized what he was doing, he averted his gaze, blushing fiercely. 

It had been a while since he had burst into flame, but now would have been as apt a time as any. Heat had made a home in his cheeks, and he hoped Calypso wouldn’t notice the tinge of pink on them in the cotton-candy glow of the sunset. 

“Leo,” she finally said, her voice the softest it had been since she confronted him back at the shop. “Please tell me what is going on with you. I am…” she paused, as if reluctant to continue.

“You’re…?” He prompted, returning his gaze to her.

“I am worried. And _do not_ let that get to your head, Valdez,” she said, jabbing a finger into his chest again. “I am serious.”

“I thought you were worr–”

“ _LEO._ ”

“Right, right, sorry,” he said, raising his palms up in surrender. Not the time for dad jokes. His hands were shaking slightly, and he stuffed them back into his pockets to hide his nerves. Where to start? “I…”

Calypso watched him struggle, not offering an out by way of a verbal or physical prompt. She seemed content to watch him suffer through an explanation. Damn this stubborn, beautiful girl. 

“I don’t think I– I _know_ I don’t really compare to the other… heroes who washed up on your island,” he finally started, finding it hard to say “I” and “hero” in the same sentence. One of the frown lines he had become accustomed to on Calypso’s face began to form slowly, and he wanted to smooth it out with his thumb. He didn’t actually do it, though. “You had these super cool, muscular white dudes like Odysseus, and Percy Jackson, you know?”

Calypso breathed a laugh, ducking her head in what looked like embarrassment. It was the most at ease she had looked all day. Leo wanted to keep it that way, so he continued speaking.

“And I know I helped you get off Ogygia.” He pronounced the name delicately, as if handling glass. “But now I feel like maybe you think you owe me something just because of that, and I don’t want to hold you back from anything you want to do.” He was on a roll now, that was for sure. “Sheesh, sometimes I wonder if you wish you were back there. And I don’t know if you still feel the same way about me as you did back then, because I’m nowhere near as… spectacular as all the other dudes. I would totally get it if you didn’t. But I guess I’m being selfish because…” he breathed deeply. “I’m still in love with you, and I don’t wanna lose you, Calypso.”

He’d done it. He’d bared his soul to her, laying out all of his fears for her to pick apart and possibly laugh at. And he’d even used her real name, something he never did. It had been a very weird night so far.

Her face was blank as she processed, and that absolutely killed him. He’d really gone and screwed it all up now, hadn’t he? She had just been waiting for the moment to tell him that she wanted to do her own thing, and no matter how much he cared about her, he would have understood. He was not like Percy. He was not worth coming home to. Calypso simply hadn’t had the opportunity to let him down easy yet, and he’d just handed it up to her on a silver platter.

Her lips finally moved, readying to speak. Leo focused his undivided attention on her next words (which was no small feat):

“Gods, I would _hope_ you were still in love with me, Leo Valdez. Otherwise, my living with you would become rather awkward.”

He struggled to form words. “What?" He eventually croaked.

She giggled happily, the sound fluttery and heavenly to his ears, making his heart skip a beat. “Have I finally made Leo Valdez, Mister Motormouth, _speechless?_ This shall go down in the history books!” Her eyes glowed with mirth, and Leo was transfixed.

He had no idea where she’d heard of “motormouth,” or of the “history books.” She must have been getting up to some top-secret research behind his back. 

“Listen to me, Leo,” she said, taking his hand, wrapping her fingers around his palm and slowly rubbing circles into the back of it with her thumb. “I am going to tell you just how wrong you are.” 

Leo could feel his free hand gathering heat. It would be a matter of moments before he went ablaze. Well, if that _did_ happen, he could just take a quick dip in the ocean. It would be all ambient, with the sun setting beautifully over the water and the sound of the waves touching the shore and Calypso laughing as she watched him flail around–

“First, I have had more than just ‘super cool, muscular white dudes’ show up on Ogygia. I will spare you the list, but _know that_ ,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Second, you did not ‘help me get off Ogygia,’ you died and came back to life so that you could _rescue_ me.” Her eyes twinkled in the purple glow of the sunset, and Leo felt lightheaded. “I may feel as if I owe you something, because I owe you the world for what you have done for me.”

Leo began to protest, but she pressed a finger to his lips, effectively shutting him up. (The feeling of her touch simultaneously tickled and burned, like holding your hand over a flame.) She kept it there as she continued to speak. “You are not holding me back from anything. I am quite content in our current… arrangement.” 

She took a deep breath before continuing, dropping her finger from his mouth. Leo hung onto every last word she spoke.

“I do not wish I was back on Ogygia. Freedom may be stressful, but it is beautiful.”

He wanted to put that quote on a fridge magnet, or maybe broadcast it to the entire world.

“And, well.” She seemed to finally lose steam, her voice becoming less commanding and more soft. It reminded him of Piper’s charm-speak. “I would not call you spectacular, Leo Valdez…”

Leo blew air out of the side of his mouth. His eyes burned, but he blinked a few times to push away the tears. He knew what was coming.

“...Yeah, I know,” he murmured.

And then.

And _then._

She leaned in quickly and kissed him forcefully, shutting down every single center of his brain with the touch of her plump lips to his. Subconsciously, he felt his hand light up in flame, but he didn’t care because Calypso was kissing the absolute _life_ out of him. He moved quickly to release his hand from hers and grip her waist tightly, leaning into her cinnamon-y taste and insistent pressure against his lips, all the while feeling as if he was on top of the world. 

He kissed her for a moment longer until she pulled away from him, gripping the collar of his henley for balance as she leaned backward, back arched.

“...But what I will call you, _just this once,_ is the Supersized McShizzle, and that is exactly why I love you too.”

He felt absolutely slack-jawed, already enough by the absolute doozy of a kiss she just plopped on him, and doubly so by the “Supersized McShizzle” comment. Maybe even triply so by the "I love you too" comment. He felt as if his brain was overheating, like a computer would when trying to do too many things at once. He tried to move his lips to speak again but once more, nothing came of it. He simply opened and closed his mouth, not unlike a fish out of water.

“Uh-oh,” she said, grinning. Her eyes danced coyly. “I think I broke him.” She ducked her head, looking up at him through her eyelashes flirtatiously. “Do I need to kiss it better?”

He was pretty sure he was dead and this was the result of his neurons firing for the last time, creating a beautiful technicolor daydream that would send him off into the afterlife as a content ball of flame, with the knowledge that Calypso felt the same way about him as he did her.

Finally, _finally,_ his mind kicked back into action, and he spluttered, “Uh, yeah! That definitely… wouldn’t hurt. That would be very beneficial, actually.” He pointed up to his lips with the hand (which was thankfully no longer ablaze) that wasn’t still lightly gripping the back of her shirt in his fist, saying with a grin, “So put ‘em here, and your favorite bad boy will be working just fine.”

She laughed harder than he'd ever heard her, and gods did Leo love her laugh, catching the smallest little snort at the end of it. He thought that maybe, if it weren’t for her hands tucked into his collar, he would collapse onto the sand and pass out. She kissed him again, and by some unseen force he stayed on his feet as their lips connected for a second time. He would never get used to kissing Calypso.

When she pulled away, she tilted her head slightly and smiled at him. “I was waiting for you to make a move, you know,” she said. Leo was surprised by her brazen allusion to affection. From what he knew about her (which was clearly far less than he originally thought), she was the quiet brand of lover who had gotten her heart broken too many times to be so confident about a relationship, so it took a lot to get through to that more hopeful side of her. He felt honored that she trusted him enough to do such a thing.

“Me?” He asked dumbly.

She bit her lip in an effort to keep a laugh inside, and Leo was definitely in love with the sight. “Yes, you. No, actually, I was thinking of calling Odysseus.”

He blushed even as he came up with a retort. “Well, ain’t no way Odysseus could kiss like _this,_ ” he said, grinning. 

“You definitely let it get to your head,” she said, tsking. “I guess I will have to take those kisses back, hmm?” 

“Nuh-uh. No take-backs. And you definitely can’t take back ‘Supersized McShizzle.’ I expect to only be referred to as such until the end of time.”

“No way, Leo Valdez.” She leaned forward again, and he expected another kiss, but instead she simply pressed her forehead to his. The move was surprisingly intimate, especially for Calypso. As she stood impossibly close to him every smooth, youthful plane of her face was in high definition, but Leo was entranced by her eyes, the very eyes that had first caught his attention when he met her. “I like that name better anyway. It rolls off the tongue nicely.”

Leo wanted to make a joke about tongues, but realized that he’d only embarrass the hell out of himself and disgust Calypso. Instead, he opted to kiss her again, made easier by their already-close proximity. The small knot that had been stuck in his stomach since the opening of the shop all those weeks ago was finally unwound, and he thought that if he could just have this for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t need anything else.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Calypso said, as if reading his mind. “‘Leo and Calypso’s Auto Repair and Mechanical Monsters’ would not be much without Calypso, would it?”

“No,” he said truthfully, his voice uncharacteristically hoarse. “It would be nothing without you.” 

In the ensuing silence, Leo was able to hear a few stray seagulls cawing some distance away, and the gentle caress of the waves against the beach. In silences, he tended to overthink every little thing that caused them, but in that moment, his mind was clear aside from the image in front of him: Calypso processing what he'd just said, teasing her bottom lip between her teeth as she did so. A twinge of sadness entered Calypso's expression, and he wished he hadn’t said something so gooey and sentimental, but it quickly transformed into a small smile that absolutely drove him wild.

“Let’s go back to the shop, Leo,” she said as she took his hand in hers again, this time handling it with care instead of nearly breaking it. “It’s dinnertime.”

While they ate dinner that night, Leo couldn’t stop smiling and studying Calypso as they sat down on Tennyson. She sat with her legs tucked beneath her, leaning on the back of the couch as she stabbed her fork into the bits of stew that she chewed as if savoring the taste of every single one. He wondered how she made such simple things as eating look so elegant.

“Your stew will get cold,” she said when she noticed him staring, but she turned away to hide a blush. 

After they ate, they put their dishes away and returned to the couch. Leo was feeling a bit drowsy, as he plopped down onto Tennyson and promptly took up nearly all the space, but Calypso forced him to move his legs so that she could sit down by his feet. They sat in silence like this for a few minutes, and Leo watched Calypso as she looked out into the expanse of the shop. Her thick brows were furrowed in concentration as her eyes spanned the walls. He wondered if she saw the garage the way he saw it, as a true home, like somewhere she thought she could belong. It was the least that she deserved after being imprisoned on Ogygia for three thousand years. 

Soon, though, Calypso got a funny look in her eye and told him, “Put your head here,” while pointing to her lap.

Leo gave her a confused look, at which she flushed.

“It is more comfortable,” she insisted, but he could see how shy she was about the whole thing. He shot her a tired, teasing grin, and obliged her, resting his head on the pillow of her thighs, which were far more comfortable than any bed he’d ever slept in. He looked up at her in wonder, and she looked back down at him with a loving smile, threading her fingers delicately through his curls, all the while making small playful comments like, “Your hair is a whole other creature, Leo Valdez.”

Leo could have slept until the next morning like this, but eventually she said, “Up. My legs are falling asleep,” and forced him to stand.

He made a point of whining about it. “But I was comfortable!”

“Too bad,” she deadpanned, but she reluctantly grinned at the puppy-dog eyes he was shooting her. “It is past your bedtime.”

“Which is exactly why we should have stayed on the couch,” he argued. “I could have gotten a good night’s sleep with this view.” To specify exactly what view he was referring to, he brought a hand to her jaw, running his thumb along it and eventually resting his hand on the back of her neck. 

Pink flared up in her cheeks and she gaped at him incredulously, unable to come up with a snappy response for _that_ particular statement. “You… are…”

Something Leo loved about the way Calypso spoke was that she rarely used contractions, such as “you’re” or “he’s.” She almost always took care to enunciate each individual word with elegance and honey dripping from every syllable. It fascinated him. What fascinated him more was that, in the moment, she seemed to be unable to speak, and she _always_ had something witty on the tip of her tongue.

“Smooth as heck? Suave? Sexy?” He supplied, grinning. “All are applicable to Leo Valdez.”

“Try ‘an idiot,’” she challenged, finding her voice. She removed his hand from her neck and pulled him along by it through the door of their little apartment behind the garage.

It was messily furnished with a few ratty old lamps that supplied warm lighting, a TV in the corner, and another couch. There was a kitchen in the far-right corner, where Calypso made their meals. The sink was filled with dirty dishes (including the remains of tonight's dinner) and the counter, where two tall stools sat, was covered in boxes of cereal, a coffee maker, and other assorted items. The doors to their bedrooms were adjacent on the left wall, with the bathroom in the corner. The walls were concrete, but Calypso had told him she didn’t like the drab gray color, so she was working on covering all four walls with a vibrant mural with splashes of color and a few personal touches, such as a cornucopia spilling mountains of food, a campfire with the letter L painted on the end of one of the logs, and some palm trees. The paint cans that she was using were all shoved into the corner near the bathroom, but they were nearly empty. Leo would have to go out and buy some new ones soon.

They took turns getting ready for bed in the bathroom. Calypso went first, Leo second. He was a bit surprised to see her waiting for him next to the door after he finished, but he smiled at the sight of her pretending that she hadn’t been doing it, clearing her throat and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Smooth, Sunshine,” he joked, and she rolled her eyes, unabashedly smiling now. He’d wormed his way through to her heart, for sure. 

“I am going to ignore that,” she said, as she looked him straight in the eye. The air around them felt full of something that Leo was slowly becoming more and more familiar with. She leaned forward, slowly as if through molasses, resting a hand on his chest for balance, and she kissed him chastely. He felt himself become what felt like a thousand degrees warmer as she pressed her lips to his, barely having the presence of mind to kiss back at the very last second. 

Calypso grinned at his dumbfounded face as she pulled away (a bit too soon, in Leo’s humble opinion). “Good night, Leo. Sleep well.” 

She turned on her heel and walked to her bedroom door, giving him one last grin over her shoulder as she opened and closed it. Leo shook his head in amazement. 

Suddenly, he smelled smoke, and looked down at his hands, which were on fire once again. 

“Crap!” He shouted, patting them frantically against the wall to try and put them out. After a few attempts, he finally snuffed them. Leo sighed in exhausted relief.

On the wall, Festus made a series of clicks and whirrs, which carried a tone of playfulness. Leo chuckled and said, “I know, right?” He turned around, walking to his own bedroom. “Night, Festus,” Leo called across the room to the mechanical dragon’s head. (The rest of his body was stored safely in a hangar back at Camp Jupiter.) It responded in kind with another series of mechanical purrs. 

Leo shut his door behind him, and nearly didn’t think to change into his pajamas for how keyed up he was. When he was finally able to sleep, hours later, the only things on his mind were Calypso’s hexing smile and the feeling of her lush lips on his.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this! Seriously, I had a blast writing it. I don't think I ever got bored, just struggled to find a way to tell the story I wanted to tell as accurately as possible. I did a lot of stuff I don't usually do (edited it multiple times? Who am I?) and I think that really comes through in the reading of this fic. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, if you find this fic, because I know the fan population that actually, really, ships this pairing is very small. It would be so great if you could leave a kudos, or better yet, a comment, if you liked this story. Once again, thank you so much for reading! Until the next fic!


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